


Search & Rescue

by jhoom



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Established Relationship, Kidnapping, M/M, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Rescue Missions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-06-30
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:01:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24991222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jhoom/pseuds/jhoom
Summary: Bucky's determined not to go on any missions until he's sure he can trust himself. And then Steve has to go and get himself captured, and it looks like Bucky doesn't have much of a choice.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 18
Kudos: 138
Collections: Bad Things Happen Bingo





	Search & Rescue

**Author's Note:**

> so i was talked/tricked into trying out the [Bad Things Happen Bingo](https://badthingshappenbingo.tumblr.com/) since i am an angst lover if nothing else, so here we are :) my first bingo square completed for my first bingo! the prompt i'm working on for this one is **"kidnapping"**
> 
> you can find my bingo card on Tumblr and yell at me about stucky/marvel 

Bucky doesn’t go on missions. 

He’s not ready. Physically he’s fine; between training with Steve and working out with Sam, he’s in peak condition. It’s the garbage still floating around in his head that he doesn’t trust. It comes up enough in innocent circumstances - the tone of someone’s voice, a smell he can’t place but that haunts him, a color that shakes loose images and memories he’d rather not have - that he refuses to go out in the field. 

Meltdowns at home, in the safety of the complex, aren’t exactly acceptable, but aside from a few broken doors or holes in walls, no one gets hurt by them. 

If he lost it during a mission... 

He can’t take the risk. He won’t put his teammates in that position, making them potentially choose between bringing Bucky in unharmed or protecting civilians. He’s made his position clear, and no one challenges him on it. Even Steve barely pushes anymore, just checks in once and a while, and then lets it go easily when Bucky refuses. 

Which means he knows it’s all gone to hell when Natasha walks up to him with a tac suit in hand. 

“No,” he says when she holds it out for him. “I’m not going.” 

“They got Steve,” is all she has to say, and fuck her for knowing it’d be that easy. 

He snatches the suit. “Well what the fuck are we waiting for?” 

It’s the most stressful ride of his life, and that includes when they shipped him to Europe back in the 40s. He listens quietly to Nat as she explains what happens, shows him the footage they have, tells him point-blank it was Hydra that did it and with Steve being MIA for nearly twenty hours now, it’s not looking good. 

“I’ll get him back,” Bucky says as he inspects, re-inspects, his weapons.

Sam and Nat share a look. 

It aggravates him that there’s any doubt.  _ He _ doubts, but that’s his own personal business. He doesn’t want  _ them _ to doubt it, doesn’t want them to doubt  _ him _ , not when it comes to this. Because if there’s one thing he should be good for, it should be protecting Steve. 

_ Except it’s not, that’s why I wasn’t out there with him, covering his dumb ass… If I were worth anything, I’d have  _ **_been there_ ** _ and  _ **_stopped this_ ** _.  _

He checks his rifle one more time. 

It’s Nat that goes in first, and it kills Bucky. He has all of the subtlety of a tractor-trailer, so he gets it. They’ve got about the same skill set, but Nat’s better at sneaking around. She’ll get all three of them inside the base; if it was left to Bucky, he’d probably set off every alarm and alert the whole compound. 

What they needed at the moment was some degree of tact. 

“He’ll be fine,” Sam assured him while they waited for Nat’s go ahead. 

“He fucking better be,” Bucky said, because he wasn’t sure what he’d do with himself if Steve weren’t okay. 

Probably tear the world apart, burn it down, that sort of thing. 

They split up once all three of them are inside. The clock’s ticking and they’re all capable. Still, he hears Sam’s drones trailing him, sees Nat’s shadow in the dark corners of abandoned rooms. He’s not sure what’s worse: if he’s imagining it or if they’re really there. 

By sheer luck, Bucky’s picked a relatively straight forward, abandoned path. He searches room after room and finds nothing, no traces of anyone and certainly not Steve. He can hear gunfire echoing through the walls, distant enough he’d be hard-pressed to track it, so he carries on. Nat and Sam are more than capable of taking care of themselves. 

“Soldier?” 

His head snaps around. There’s a woman, a scientist, staring at him in confusion. She doesn’t even know enough to be afraid, just looks at him like he’s… like he’s…

_ A tool, an asset, not a person, not someone to look at but through. _

He realizes with a terrible prickle on the back of his neck that he  _ knows _ her. She was in a lab with him once, calmly helping his handlers wake him up or put him under or patch him up or  _ something _ . That’s why she’s looking at him like that. He’s not an invader to fear, no, he’s a tool out of place. 

It makes him see red. 

She gets a bullet through her head before she can realize her mistake, and then he’s storming down the hallway the way she’d come, shooting up every lab he comes to because  _ fuck these assholes _ . They wanted to make him a merciless killing machine, then  _ fine _ , he can be that still. He can fall back into the Winter Soldier, let the thing they made free and unleash it against them. 

It should scare him how easily he slips back into it. Barely a thought and he’s back, the Soldier is back. He’s almost welcome, because it allows Bucky to act without his nerves flaring up. There’s no anxiety for Steve’s safety, no fear of  _ what if _ , just the well-oiled machine of a killer on a mission. Room after room he goes, shooting indiscriminately. When he runs out of bullets, then it’s his knives. 

He reaches for a knife and finds none, and he almost smiles when he realizes he’ll have to use his hands now. 

He’s gone, on autopilot as his body and its old programming run rampant. There’s a bit of worry growing at the edge of his awareness. He should’ve found Steve by now, should’ve heard from Natasha or Sam. Will he be able to snap out of this…? 

“Bucky?” 

It’s to his utter shame that he almost doesn’t react. He keeps going, punches through a metal door and fully means to keep going on his rampage— 

“ _ Buck! _ ” 

He stops then, the voice clicking in his head and shaking him loose of the Soldier’s grasp. 

“Shit.” He doubles back and nearly crashes into Steve. He pulls him into a hug and mentally berates himself for  _ somehow missing Steve _ . 

Steve winces in his grasp, his balance unsteady, and Bucky pulls away to inspect him. He looks like shit, like he hasn’t slept in days. Sweaty and exhausted, his uniform’s a grimy mess. There are distinct lines around his wrist, no doubt from metal cuffs keeping him in place, and Bucky’s sure that whatever fate meets the people who did this to him, it’ll be better than they deserve.

“I’m fine.” Steve barely wilts under Bucky’s glare. “My leg hurts,” he admits. 

His eyes drop to Steve’s legs, scanning them up and down. It takes maybe two seconds to see the red drenched around a hole in the right thigh. 

“You’ve been shot.” Bucky’s on his knees, med kit out when terror freezes him. “Who… Did  _ I _ …?” 

He thinks of all the bullets he unloaded into crowded rooms, uncaring who was in them. He hadn’t looked, hadn’t  _ thought _ to look, to check for Steve. A mindless zombie, he’d  _ forgotten _ Steve  _ again _ . He knew he wasn’t ready, knew he shouldn’t be trusted out here— 

“No,” Steve soothes, his hand stroking through Bucky’s hair. “No, it wasn’t you. They shot me and I went down. Only reason they were able to take me in at all.” He laughs bitterly. “Probably the only reason I’m still in here and they had to drag you into this mess. I’m sorry, Buck—” 

“Save it. You can apologize for getting your dumb ass captured later when we’re back home.” He rips the hole wider, inspects the wound. 

To his utter relief, Steve’s story checks out. The bullet’s still in there, deep in his thigh, but the entry wound’s started to close around it. Not recent enough for it to be Bucky’s work, but that’s barely any comfort. The state he was in, it  _ could _ have been him. He could have done this, or worse, and it’s a terrible thing to be relieved he hadn’t. 

“I’m sorry they dragged you into this,” Steve whispers while Bucky works. He digs a hand into the metal of Bucky’s shoulder when Bucky cuts him open and starts digging the bullet out. Bucky hates doing it, but it has to be done and he knows Steve would rather him do it than Nat; the last thing they need is the wound to completely heal with the bullet still inside him, tearing his muscles and making it that much harder to repair the damage.

“Don’t be,” Bucky says, voice thick. Steve’s reckless for sure, but it’s not his fault Bucky’s head is a fucking mess. “I don’t know that I’d have been any better off staying behind, knowing you were in trouble.” 

“Well, you know me. I’m always getting in trouble.” 

“Ain’t that the truth, you dumb punk.” 

“Jerk.” A pause. “You should probably radio in that you found me. They took my comm.” 

Oh, right. 

“You do it.” He pulls the radio out of his ear and passes it to Steve, let’s him deal with that while he finishes patching up his leg. 

“Natasha? Sam? This is Steve— Yeah, he’s with me. I’m fine. Got myself out once you guys started shooting up the place.” He pauses, then looks down with worried blue eyes that Bucky can’t quite meet without feeling shame. “He’s fine,” Steve says, voice firm. “We’ll meet you in ten.” 

He watches for a moment as Bucky finishes patching him up. “You are fine, right? I know you didn’t want to be out here fighting anymore—” 

“I’m fi—” The word dies in his throat. He can’t finish the lie, not when it’s Steve asking. He stands up, tired and feeling every single one of his ninety-odd years. “I’m not great,” he admits. “I’m gonna have nightmares about this for weeks, and I sure as fuck ain’t going on any more missions until I know I’ve cleared some more of the garbage out of my head.” 

Steve’s eyes are wide and suspiciously wet. “Bucky, I’m—” 

“If you’re gonna say you’re sorry, save it, Rogers. Don’t get kidnapped, that’s all I’m asking.” 

Steve gulps and nods. He looks like he wants to pull Bucky in for a hug, so Bucky lets him. He goes in easily, collapses against him. His body, his mind, they both feel heavy. He’s spent and so damn glad that Steve wraps strong, protective arms around him. 

“Let’s get home, okay?” Steve says with a kiss to Bucky’s forehead. “I think we’ve earned some rest.” 


End file.
